“I see,” Sophie said, a strange feeling suffusing her. She felt like a heroine in an old novel, a pawn of a powerful fate she could not begin to understand. How could the affairs of a rich man have anything to do with her in the real world?
“Perhaps this will sound insane to you. It is insane, but my father will have his way. He won’t change his mind, and he is likely mere months from death. He has heart failure, and he’s fading fast.”
“I’m very sorry to hear that,” Sophie said. She clasped her hands in front of her on the table to keep them from trembling.
“He has lived a full life.” John paused. “I must meet his conditions in the will if I am to inherit Haven House. Otherwise, my father will sell it off. It’s just one form of his control and usual cruelty.” Granger’s mouth twisted into something ugly.
“Inheritances, money. This isn’t my field of expertise,” Sophie said with a short laugh. “My family never had either. I don’t know what to say, but that sounds terrible.” David’s face popped into her mind and his words in the letter he’d left on the kitchen table just two and a half weeks ago: I don’t want to be married to you anymore. You’ll receive divorce papers in a few days. Please just sign them. You won’t see me again. Everything here is yours.
She was tired of cruel men and the havoc they wreaked.
“It will be a great loss if I don’t meet the stipulations of the will, but it doesn’t have to happen that way.” Granger leaned forward, his gaze intense. It drew Sophie in. “If I marry now and take my wife back to Haven House, then the stipulations for the inheritance are taken care of. When my father dies, I will be the new master of Haven House.” He smiled thinly.
“Oh, so it could all still work out for you,” Sophie said, the words coming out in a whisper. She felt quite out of her depth. An idea rose in her mind—a thought so outrageous, she couldn’t even give it form. He could not possibly be proposing that she was his choice to marry?
“Yes, and that’s why I have a proposal for you. From the moment I saw you tonight, I couldn’t take my eyes off of you. You are so lovely, and you seem so kind. Your boss, Joanne, told me about your situation as well.” Granger grimaced and looked down at his steepled hands.
Just then, the waiter delivered their drinks and fondue.
Sophie reached for her martini, taking a long, bracing sip. “She did? She had no right to—”
“I understand your annoyance. Perhaps she didn’t, but I asked her all I could about you. The fault is all mine.” He smiled—a disarming smile Sophie felt all the way to her bones.
“I really need to leave soon. As you know, I have a baby at home.” She threw the words at him as she dipped a strawberry in fondue. Sophie wouldn’t make this easy for John Granger—whatever he wanted from her.
“Yes, I know. So, let me get to the point. My proposal is this. I want you to marry me and go to South Dakota with me to live at Haven House—you and Maya, your daughter, of course.”
“How do you know her name?”
“Your boss told me that, too.” Granger gave an apologetic shrug.
“Of course she did.” Sophie fumed. Joann had overstepped her bounds in a big way.
“I could give you a wonderful life. Your daughter would have everything she needs.” Granger leaned back, waiting on her reply.
Sophie couldn’t even speak. She swallowed her fondue and took a long swig of her martini. “Look, John, I don’t even know you, and I’ve never lived anywhere but Chicago.”
“I understand this is a shocking proposal, but I hope you will consider it. I’ll need to know by tomorrow morning.” He clasped his hands together in a motion of finality.
“Tomorrow morning?” Sophie laughed in disbelief.
“Yes, I’m sorry it’s so rushed, but we’ll need to get a marriage license before we can marry. Time is short,” Granger said, shrugging as if to apologize.
“Yes, about that. There’s one problem.” Sophie smiled archly.
“What’s that?”
“Though I have received divorce papers and signed them, my divorce won’t be final for a few months, I’m sure.”
“Oh, yes, that’s right. I wasn’t thinking.” Granger’s mouth drooped at the corners. “That does complicate things a bit.” He paused, obviously thinking. “Well, you can make the agreement beforehand that we will marry if it suits and come with me. All would be done properly, I can assure you—before the wedding. You would have your own bedroom and anything you need or want. All I need is your sworn agreement in writing that you will marry me by a certain date when the divorce is finalized.” He drummed on the table as if he were hitting the last note of a song.
Her objection hadn’t phased him at all. John Granger was quite extraordinary.
“I would have your word that things would be...proper until the wedding?” Her face felt hot.
“You would—in writing, too. Not just my word.” Granger smiled.
“I see.” Sophie paused, not wanting to seem eager, and not sure how she felt at all. Her head was spinning, but it had nothing to do with her virtually empty stomach or the martini. “How can I reach you to give you my answer?”
“Here’s my business card with the hotel number where I’m staying just down the street and my room number. Call me in the morning as soon as you can. I’ll expect to hear from you before lunch,” John Granger said, as if closing a business deal.
Sophie snorted. “So, that’s how it’s done?”
“What do you mean?” Granger said, lifting an eyebrow in puzzlement.
“You just get what you want because you’re rich and powerful.
